


Pancakes

by Scribbles97



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Family Tradition, Pancakes, Post Series Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribbles97/pseuds/Scribbles97
Summary: Pancakes are a family tradition in the Tracy household.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @gumnut-logic for giving me the idea for this one! I really needed the distraction <3

For eight years, Sunday morning pancakes had been purely Scott’s domain. Where meetings and rescues had allowed, he had done his best to keep up the long held family tradition. Not that responsibility had fallen solely on him, his family had all given it a go at some point or another, each eager to take some of the pressure off of their eldest brother.

The problem was, by his brothers own admissions, none of them seemed to manage it quite like Scott did. Whilst John had a knack for cakes and pastries, and Virgil was undoubtedly king of the barbecue, none of them seemed to be able to hack the skill required to make pancakes just like Dad’s.

Not that Scott minded one bit.

So it had become ritual, a Sunday morning without rescues or board meetings meant no early run for him.

As always on a Sunday, he spent his trip down to the kitchen taking stock of who was on the Island and what toppings they would want so early on. 

Grandma would have syrup and butter, as would Virgil.

Kayo and Gordon would stick to berries, though the latter was known to indulge in syrup. 

John would have banana.

Alan chocolate. 

He would have to summon MAX to take some down to Brains ‘ lab for the engineer, what he added to his stack was still a mystery to Scott.

As for himself, he wasn’t fussy, he would take whatever leftovers were going once the hoards had taken their fill.

Reaching the lounge, it was like he could smell the food already, their aroma soon to fill the whole villa and summon the rest of the family. 

Except, as he reached the stairs down to the kitchen, he realised the smell wasn’t in his head. 

Someone was already cooking. 

His feet sped up, taking the steps two at a time as concern took over for whoever needed the sacred food before he was even awake.

Rounding the bottom step, he stopped dead. Shoulders falling he blinked hard, resisting the urge to rub his eyes in disbelief.

“You alright there son? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The truth was, it kind of was like seeing a ghost. 

Eight years his father had been gone, followed by a further six months on the mainland for physical therapy to fix a body worn by space. 

The man stood across the kitchen from him was still too thin and pale, but it was Dad nonetheless. 

For the first time in over eight years, Dad was stood in the kitchen. 

Scott’s eyes darted to the jug in his hand, hovering over the pan on the hob.

Dad was home.

Making pancakes.

On a Sunday. 

Words escaped him. It felt surreal. He was sure he must have been dreaming, the whole scene a figment of his own imagination.

Dad laughed as he set the jug down, batter sizzling in the pan as he watched Scott. 

“You’re making pancakes.” He stated, not daring to move in case he woke up.

Dad shrugged, “Do you boys not like pancakes any more?”

“No it’s just… you… I—“ He stumbled, shaking his head as he reached for the counter to lean on, “ _ I _ make the pancakes now.”

Dad laughed again, a deep baritone that was so much more solid than the weak chuckle Scott remembered from months earlier. 

He was really home. 

Grandma had gone with him to pick him up two days ago. 

“Son, you don’t look like you could pour syrup right now, let alone do this,”

As if to prove a point he picked up the pan in one hand, flicking his wrist expertly as he always had done before to flip the pancake. It fizzled and hissed as the uncooked batter hit the heat of the pan, but the trick held little appeal to Scott next to the man stood there. 

“I…” He started, slipping onto one of the stools as Dad poked at the crisping edges with a knife, “... part of me just forgot Dad. I com—“

“Yeah,” Dad sighed, glancing up as he set the pan back on the hob and picking up a plastic mug from the counter, “I get that too Kid, wake up some nights and forget completely where I am. Then I don’ wanna believe what’s right in front of me, afraid it’s just all a dream.”

“This isn’t a dream.” Scott murmured, shifting to stand so he could wrap an arm around his father’s shoulders, “We made it Dad. We’re all really here.”

Dad’s arm wrapped around his waist as he hugged him back, shuffling the pan on the hob slightly to make sure the pancake was done.

“I couldn’t be more proud of you son.”

They stood there for a long moment, both just watching the pan on the hob. Scott was quite happy to simply savour the moment, still not quite believing how Dad was really there, really home and doing what Scott had been filling in for for so long. 

The moment was broken as Dad cleared his throat though, pulling away from Scott to tip the pancake onto a plate before handing the hot skillet over to Scott,

“I don’t think I’ve got a whole batch in me quite yet,” He smiled as he tilted his head, “I take it you’re the one in charge of them these days?”

Scratching the back of his head, Scott shrugged, “Only if you say so Dad.”

“Don’t worry,” Dad winked, picking up his plate and mug, “I’ll be sure to tell you if they’re not up to scratch.”

Scott laughed as he turned to the hob, ready to start what he did every Sunday, except this time with his fathers blessing. 


End file.
